Free Burned by Ellen Hopkins Page B

and as I walked, the scent of gun oil
    blended with evergreen. Heavenly!
    It had been several weeks since
    I'd shot a gun and for ten or fifteen
    minutes I felt as rusty as tin in salt air.
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    But then it all came tumbling back and for quite some time I amused myself, shooting ever-smaller pinecones from the trees.
    As I wandered farther and farther into the belly of the forest, a flash of beige brushed the corner of my eye.
    I froze, and so did the doe, heavy with fawn. We gave each other a stout once-over, then she flinched and vanished, a whisper.
    It came to me that I never considered
    raising that gun and taking aim, not that a .22 was much in the way of a venison rifle.
    And in a moment of clarity, I understood
    that while killing for meat can be tolerated, killing for passion might very well be easier.
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    By Friday Afternoon
    I decided my bottom had healed
    enough to practice a bit on Old
    Poncho. I didn't want to look like a complete fool in front of Ethan.
    (The best-laid plans . . .)
    Aunt J was taking a nap when I
    wandered down to the barn, clipped a rope to Ponchos halter, and led him to the tack room.
    (That much I remembered.) I
    slipped a blanket over his back, topped it with the saddle, reached for the cinch. That's when things
    got a bit hazy memory-wise.
    (I'd only seen it done once!)
    Through one ring, pull it tight, now some kind of a knot?
    Okay, it didn't feel exacdy right, but I calculated it might do.
    (Math was not my best subject.)
    Whatever I did, it managed to hold my weight as I stepped up into the stirrup and pulled
    myself into the saddle.
    (Thereby increasing my confidence.)
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    I'd forgotten the bridle completely, but Poncho didn't seem to care.
    He steered just fine without a bit, at least while circling at a walk.
    (Building my confidence even more.)
    I knew I had to trot sometime, master whatever technique
    stopped one from bouncing.
    I nudged him to pick up speed.
    (Things started to go wrong immediately.)
    Plop-plop-plop. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Maybe faster was better?
    I kicked once. Poncho upped his pace.
    Still bouncing, I kicked again.
    (In retrospect, it was a bad move.)
    Poncho had had quite enough.
    He feinted right. I leaned right, just as he shifted left. Completely
    baffled, my body kept right.
    (About then, I suspected something was amiss.)
    The saddle moved along with my weight, cocking sideways.
    I grabbed the horn and planted
    my feet in the stirrups.
    (Not exactly the right thing to do.)
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    Poncho put on the brakes, resulting in the saddle and me
    coming to a sudden halt, at a ninety-degree angle to the horizon.
    (Hilarious, if it had been someone else.)
    About then, I happened to glance toward the driveway, where a shiny
    blue Dodge Dakota had parked.
    Ethan stood beside it, grinning.
    (Like I said, the best-laid plans . . .)
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    No Way Off That Horse
    But to look like a total idiot and fall butt-first in the dirt, so that's exactly what I did.
    I thought your problem was sitting a trot, not gettiri off the horse. Ethan stood over me.
    Aunt J told him? My face
    bubbled heat. "Apparently,
    Fve got multiple problems."
    Ethan's grin broadened.
    He offered a hand, pulled
    me to my feet. Don't we all?
    Poncho snorted and moved to one side, and the saddle
    slid completely under his belly.
    Hard to sit a horse sideways,
    Pattyn, least that's what
    I've always believed.
    "Really? Well, I didn't have much of a problem with the sideways
    thing. Now, straight up and down . . ."
    He laughed out loud. We'll
    have to work on that, okay?
    Ready to put the old boy away?
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    We'll have to work on that? Why
    did I so like the sound of that?
    God, he was good-looking!
    Ethan undid what was left of my
    cinch knot, hoisted the saddle up over one Shoulder.
    I led Poncho back to his pasture,
    Ethan so close his scent--
    sunbaked skin---engulfed me.
    l'm glad you could spend the summer with your aunt. She doesn't get
    much Company out here.
    At least she hadn't told